The Call of the Den

Her head turned upward, still gazing forward toward the crest of the mountain before her.

 

 

The most perfect of snowflakes settled on the tip of her moist, sensitive nose. Lasting but a moment, the ice crystal quickly liquified and was immediately inhaled. It carried with it a subtle reminder that caused her to pause, she turned to look downward toward the darkening hollow but the stark bitter wind that was now rushing up the steep unforgiving slope reminded her it was not worth her effort to turn back to scavenge what was remaining of the deer carcass that lay frozen in the valley below. Mostly bone and hide, she had feasted on its meager offerings the night before, licking clean the last remaining remnants of muscle and sinew. It was literally the icing on the cake, her last savory and somewhat nourishing meal before her body's clock wound down. Soon she would lay within the tight but comfortable confines of the mighty chestnut oak. 

While rooting for acorn weeks before, she had found the den site nestled high on the rocky ledge. The tree stood steadfast for centuries less than a hundred feet below the summit. The bastketball-sized opening revealed to her a hollow only slightly bigger than her curled up frame. That was all she needed. Pleased with its accommodations she decided it was there she would spend the winter. So she continued her search for food. The den would wait.

She did well in preparing her body. Her rich, jet-black coat was in pristine condition bundling in a thick, luxurious layer of fat she had accumulated over the last three months. Gorging herself on the mountain's rich bounty of mast, she nearly doubled in size securing the fate of her pending cubs. Once again, she proved she would make a strong and fit mother. Time would soon reveal how many cubs she would bear, no matter the number, she was ready.

And the den called.

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The above scene repeats itself countless times throughout most of North America as black bears prepare for a long winter's nap. What many folks don't realize, however, is that black bears don't really hibernate, at least not in the sense of a true hibernator. Unlike woodchucks and other true hibernators that go into a coma-like state, bears pretty much just go into a deep sleep. In fact, they are so good at sleeping some people call them "nature's super sleepers."

If you want to learn more about the amazing world of black bear hibernation, join black bear specialist Daryl Ratajczak on an intriguing and fun adventure into a bears den. "Nature's Super Sleepers" is an interactive Webinar you can enjoy from the comforts of your own home. Join in on Tuesday, September 26th at 8:00 pm and learn what goes on physically to a bear's body that to this day, still stumps the medical world. For more information or to register for the class ($15) send an email inquiry to wildlifeforyoutraining@gmail.com.


Photos by Bob Howdeshell at: http://www.bobhowdeshell.com/

 

Science in a Connected World

The lines between real science and popular science have been blurred. In today's world of lightning fast advancements the vision needs focus soon.

It amazes me the information at my fingertips. With the click of a button or the tap of a screen I can find out how many olfactory sensors are within the lining of a bear's nose just as easily as I can find out the final score of the Yankee's double-header. The wealth of information within my reach is both powerful and satisfying. Yet equal to my amazement is my deep and unsettling concern.

In times past, it was relatively safe to assume that most information provided to the public en masse was fairly trustworthy. This is because before the advancement of electronic media, it took both time and expense to publish materials for widespread consumption. Anecdotal information and tomfoolery were not worth the expense to seek publication. Why spend hard-earned money if what you have to say is unproven or simply meant as a joke?

Now enter the World Wide Web and the age of information sharing. A place where people can not only dream of being anything they want they can become anything they want. Wiith simple keystrokes of their computer, they can capture their beliefs on any given topic and have an audience with anyone willing to listen or read. This is an absolutely wonderful platform for the arts where expression and creativity are the ultimate goal. This freedom to be heard, however, oftentimes has dreadful consequences for the sciences, a world in which scientific rigors are the sculpting tool necessary for accuracy of information.

You see, the sciences are founded on the scientific method. It includes making an observation, forming a hypothesis and making a prediction, then testing that prediction based on scientific experimentation, the results of which validate or invalidate your hypothesis. This process is how all the sciences advance, including biology, chemistry, physics, geology, psychology, and many more. In simplest form it is about finding the truth. It is a rigorous and beautiful process that requires peer review to make sure corners aren't cut and results can be duplicated. In no short order, it is what has built and shaped societies and everything we know about the natural world. Now enter my concern.

Within the last few years, science has become increasingly diluted because of this unregulated platform we call electronic media. On that platform beliefs and hypotheses have been promoted as fact without ever having been tested and have been filtered out to the general public. Don't get me wrong, the scientific method is alive and well and as strong as ever within the world of academia but it is being overwhelmed by "Hollywood-like" approaches where salesmanship and pictures often trump proven scientific results. None more so than in the world of wildlife biology.

I will give you a prime example. The public, by and large, loves wildlife. For some reason, most people believe that it is beneficial to feed wildlife yet countless research studies demonstrate the negative consequences of supplementally feeding wildlife. In fact, very few if any scientific studies suggest supplemental feeding is beneficial to the long-term health of wildlife populations. Then why does this feeding myth abound? Simple… someone put out food for an animal and saw how it helped that one individual animal. Their observation then suddenly jumped to fact that artificial feeding is beneficial to wildlife without ever having tested all the variables. Absent were the latent effects that were not readily observed. Impacts to other species, increase in capacity for disease transmission, changes in carrying capacity, and altered natural behavior are rarely viewed by the untrained eye.

Even worse is when unproven or detrimental actions are found to be profitable because they are soon marketed as scientifically-based. The proverbial "I saw it on TV or I read it on the internet so it must be true" conundrum. Yes, the advent and spread of fake news goes far beyond the political world.

Fortunately, any trained professional or critical thinker can see through the false claims but therein lies the problem. The overwhelming majority of the public doesn't fall in either of those categories, therefore, unproven claims are now becoming the leading "science." This worries me. Now in our prospective fields, discoveries no longer simply have to be revealed, they have to compete with and refute "popular science." Not an easy task in the ultra-rich world of marketing and media. It is no longer a desire to promote the most accurate information, it is simply who has the best pictures or story to tell regardless of its accuracy.

Mass communication is a wonderful thing. But communication without the ability to filter truth from falsehoods is not communication at all. It is simply static and wasted effort and I for one would like to see science return to what it once was, a tool for advancing our ever-growing body of knowledge.

 

 

Life Lessons Through Crawdads

Their wide-eyed, slack-jawed, teary-eyed stare told the story. They were faced with a difficult decision that was about to teach them a life lesson about life itself.

My boys and I spent the better part of the morning walking along a clear, cold-runnin' creek in Western New York. One would think the highlight of our backwoods adventure was the beautiful velvet 10-point we caught sneaking along in the waters' edge but it wasn't. Instead, our prized possession ambled lazily about on the bottom of a faded ol' blue beach pail, the kind with the cheap white plastic handle. Inside its keep scurried about two dozen of Mother Nature's finest looking crawdads, or crayfish as those northern folk like to call 'em.

The mornin' was spent teachin' the boys to catch crawdads. It only took but a few tries for my nine-year old son Jarret to get the catchin' technique down, red solo cups serving as our instruments of capture. Once he realized their first move is always a straight shot backwards, he anticipated well and positioned the red plastic trap perfectly. Of course those elusive ones that skirted the cup and brushed his hand or his foot caused him to start, but I didn't care, the smile on his face and giggle in his voice assured me he was in no danger.

Ryan, my six-year-old, was a totally different story. He was tryin' to rewrite my age-old crawdad catchin' instructions. He couldn't quite figure out why you couldn't just reach down and grab them where they set. Though he tried with all his might, he just couldn't get close enough to grab ahold of one. When they shot clear of his five-fingered claw, he wasn't near as startled by the mini-lobsters as his older brother but that was simply because he wasn't taught to be afraid of them. I was thankful for that but after awhile I finally convinced him to let the cup do the catchin'.

Needless to say the mornin' was glorious and before long the midday sun was reminding us that grandma would soon have lunch waiting for the boys. I looked down to see the boys' tally. Though they had initially started keeping track of who caught more it was soon apparent that Jarret was going to win that contest. Fortunately Ryan bested him in the biggest crawdad category so each boy was beaming from ear to ear. That's when I dropped the bomb on them.

I didn't even think twice before giving the order. We had to hike back up to the main road and start heading home so I wasn't about to lug a big ol' pail full of water. My simple words were, "All right boys… dump'em out."

You would think I just sold the boys to the neighbors for an ice cold coke.

Both boys stood in shock not believin' what they just heard.

"What d'ya mean dump 'em out? We just caught them!" was my son's exasperated cry.

I then explain how we needed to get home but my words fell on deaf ears for they could not understand why they couldn't just keep them. And thus began the lesson.

When I had finished explaining how Mother Nature created the perfect system, and that animals were not meant as an instrument of play but rather of respect or nourishment, I left the boys with two options.

One...we could relieve the bucket of its contents and return the crawdads to their watery crevices knowing full well we could enjoy yet another day pursuing our clawed quarry.

Or two... they become dinner.

The boys desire to take them home to "play with," at the creatures expense no less, was simply not an option. Life is simply too valuable to disregard no matter the size of the creature, save insects, of course...you can always squash those biting bothersome kind.

Needless to say, grandma wasn't too happy her good cooking pot smelt of creek water, but the crawdads sure made for a fine fare that evenin'. And yes, even the six-year-old was sucking the meat from the tiny but tasty tails.

I was ever so thankful for that long ago creekside lesson because it was one that instilled a reverence in my boys. Whether it be from the pull of a trigger or the setting of a hook, they now understand they are staking a claim to an animal's life and that need not ever be taken lightly.

If only more folks learnt lessons from crawdads.